The view from the 10th year


The evening of our 10th anniversary, we talk about how things have changed and how they've stayed the same. How it seems like our wedding was yesterday and forever ago. How you could see me the day we said "I do" and how now I can see me, too. How I could see you, and how you still can't see yourself clearly. What opened my eyes to self? Cancer, emotional pain endured, reprocessing of the things that shaped and harmed me? Life hasn't been graceful to me, wrinkles and gray hairs sprouting; you either, face ruggedly handsome now, man of hard labor, man of sorrow, dear husband mine.


Ten years ago today it was the first morning we woke up together. I remember it felt scandalous, waking up in your arms. Almost impossible that there was a stamp of approval on this bliss from parents, God, society. That it didn't need to be a secret that I was in your naked embrace. And then we went off on an adventure, this time of the day we were half-way through North Dakota, playing travel Scrabble across the plains on our way to Seattle and the Sound and paddling and sleeping under the stars.


Today, ten years later, a different big water, a different adventure. You are off at the hardware store for split rings to mount 3 pound spoons on my grandpa's deep water fishing rod, dreaming of lake trout. I have a whole sketchbook of white pages for writing and sketching and I'm looking forward to sitting next to you on the cold rock curled up with the dog while you fish. Watching you. I will never tire of watching you, love. And then perhaps we'll find a café for lunch and maybe a hippie store because I need a new purse. And agates on the beach. Then a indie-folk concert tonight at a brewery.


But for all that we've endured, and for all that life has washed away from us, by grace we are still elementally the same people. Music, bread, cheese, beer, words, outdoors, water, the unexpected, and the flesh and minds of each other. These we still love together, after ten whole years.


Joining Lisa-Jo on the prompt, "Graceful"